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Minutiae becomes tedious, a longing for more, for something real. (Dissertation follows) |
Any Day Now By Ophelia Mae Hancock June 18, 2022 Dedicated to my Mother, we both try to balance the scale of life: (Dissertation follows at the end) I'm a square peg that just won't fit into the well-rounded world, regardless of how the small child may ping away with the plastic hammer... The circuitous rhyme and reason of things that don't always amount to rhyme nor reason... The infinity of things... There is no head at a round table... My edges are so sharp, so crisp, so matter of fact... Beautiful red apple... Ripe for the picking... They do not yield to the mundane... They beg for something more complex... Fuck the simple folk... They are insufferably simple... Show me something real... All my friends are heathens take it slow... Think outside the box... A rolling stone gathers no moss... What of the lesser yielding, which seems cannot turn on its own? I was a key that could use a little turning... Little sad turtle waiting for rescue... Here we go again... Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush... Life is very long... Show me something real... Tomorrow is another day... Ain't it? Tomorrow never comes... It is hopelessly rescheduled into oblivion... Waiting on that next red letter day... Gotta love ya, you're only a day away... Show me something real... Cold eggs crack when heated too quickly... Cannot make a cake without their little yolky sacrifices, and must tread feather light upon their inadequate outer sense of protection... Rats' feet over broken glass? Batter rises like a phoenix... Show me something real... Things must come to their own fruition in their own good time... Time is on my side... Is it? The sands, they slip, tiny grain by tiny grain... By the skin of my teeth... Along with the rats fleeing the sinking ship... Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day... Show me something real... Is that all there is? Let's break out the booze and have a ball... Sleep it off... For tomorrow they'll be hell to pay... Every new beginning comes from some other begining's end... And to all a good night... Sleep, per chance to dream... You have but slumbered here while these visions did appear... Show me something real... I spy with my little eye... Window to the soul... Tempest in a tea kettle... Oh what a web we weave... Little white lies fade into shades of gray, then slip off into the inky... Darkest before the storm... Seek shelter... It's just a shot away... Show me something real... The miniature elves dance upon my brain and leave their tiny footprints... Must shelter them from the storm... Hold them dear to my bosom... Mothers' milk... Nourish the wondrous little beings... For they know not what they do... They set up residence within my solitude... They entertain... They disturb... They cherish... They neglect... They follow the path less traveled... They follow the path of least resistence... Won't you show them something real? Wherever I may roam... Wherever I lay my head is home... It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star... Are you really thinking of me and loving me tonight? Or folly of a childish mind? Naivete... Put away childish things... See the forest for the trees... WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! SHOW ME SOMETHING REAL!!! Rude awakening... Darkest before the light... Well, wouldn't it be? Some things are just so plain in their simplicity that they are overlooked... Mind always searching for greener pastures... More... Bigger... Better... Faster... Stronger.. Harder... Just, well, you know, MORE! What every dutiful housewife should expect from her laundry detergent... Attempt to sate the limitless appetite... Super-size me, oh Lord! Show me something real... Too much is never enough... Nothing exceeds like excess... Another Quaalude, she love me in the morning... Isn't that all any of us needs? That shot in the arm... That slap in the face... Pushed from the plane... Prozac and Rorschach... Then it all groovy? You and I are underdosed and we're ready to fall... Show us something real... A force from the outside... Intertia... Inertia creeps... Moving up slowly... Building steam with a grain of salt... Some days them damn bootstraps just too much to try and pull... They lack the substance of strength, of resilency, they flop and break like soggy pasta... I can't make it on my own... I need to feel something real... I tire of the kinda, sorta, maybe... I tire of the half-assed... I tire of the milquetoast... I tire of the tepid... I'm so very tired of safe, sane, reasonable... I grow weary of this world, when shall we return to Transylvania huh? Yet I receive nothing, and in abundance... Show me something real... I yearn for the great cosmic bitch slap from the oppressive pimp of history to jolt me into the redemption and forgiveness of the future... Gain my portion of my profit from my dirty deeds, earned with my intimate flesh... I toiled for that pittiance, which has been taxed way too heavily... I am left with but a bread crumb... Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than a house full of feasting with strife... Show me something real... Natives are becoming restless... We're hungry, beware of our appetite... Distant drums bring the news of a kill tonight... But nothing is real anymore... It is all a withered base of a previous thriving... Show me something real... Show me love... Show me hate... Show me passion... Show me pain... Show me life... Show me death... Dull nerves ache much more than raw ones... SHOW ME SOMETHING, FOR GOD SAKE!!! Before I can no longer see... Please tell me the ship of dazzling reality has not sailed and left behind the dingy of dim mediocracy in its place... I'm tired of cornflakes... Where is the bountiful harvest? Let us feast upon the banquet of life before it spoils... Feast upon the pig... Until our hunger is finally satisfied... Satisfy our most ravenous hunger... Show us something real... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Dissertation...Interpretations highlighted in blue I'm a square peg that just won't fit into the well-rounded world, regardless of how the small child may ping away with the plastic hammer... Trying to force the square peg in the round hole, realizing the futility of it The circuitous rhyme and reason of things that don't always amount to rhyme nor reason... The infinity of things... Definition of insanity, repeating same actions, repeating same actions not logical, they can have the potential of going on forever/infinite There is no head at a round table... There is no definitive beginning/ending, no "home base", no real structure, no sense of order, thus to be a source/sense of being lost My edges are so sharp, so crisp, so matter of fact... There is a definitive nature that has a definitive desire/goal that is not met by the overly casual and lackadaisical surroundings Beautiful red apple... Ripe for the picking... Eagerness to be "picked", waiting and longing to be claimed by just the right one. They do not yield to the mundane... They beg for something more complex... The base nature is above and beyond the mediocre and not satisfied with the norm Fuck the simple folk... They are insufferably simple... Weary of the limited span of the mainstream, longing for one that is above and beyond that Show me something real... Show me there is more than superficial All my friends are heathens take it slow... Twenty-One Pilots, Heathens lyric I and those like me (my friends) are beyond the norm, and you must take us in small doses Think outside the box... Reference to the square peg, definitive edges, urging for me to have an open mind A rolling stone gathers no moss... Must move forward or stagnate What of the lesser yielding, which seems cannot turn on its own? A masochist cannot satisfy their desires on their own, we must have a Sadist to "turn" us I was a key that could use a little turning... Soul Asylum, Runaway Train lyric Masochist yearns for the Sadist to "turn" them, the key that opens the door to release Little sad turtle waiting for rescue... Here we go again... Hopeless predicament of the turtle on its back, cannot save itself, this has happened before Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush... Life is very long... T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men", reference Believed to suggest a desolate world populated by empty defeated people. A place of them being stuck between life and death with no ability to move on into death. "Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush" - Futile monotany, no ability to give up. "Life is very long" - The impatience related to the unending search for the heart's desire. Show me something real... Show me there is actually some real hope in my pursuit. Tomorrow is another day... The eternal yet pithy promise of the future. Whereas it can be genuine, it is most often flippant. Tongue in cheek Scarlot O'Hara Ain't it? A yearning for their being an actual promise of a future within one's pursuits, begging a confirmation to counter doubts Tomorrow never comes... It is hopelessly rescheduled into oblivion... A frustration of goals never being realized, no real progress towards them, due to the apathy of those targeted Waiting on that next red letter day... The seeming tendency to think that goals should be posponed until some sort of appropriate trigger is found Gotta love ya, you're only a day away... Reference to the play Annie. She longs for a day that is unlikely to come, but still has hope Show me something real... Show me my hopes are not in vain Cold eggs crack when heated too quickly... A rapid shift from one state to another is overwhelming. Succumbing to an overpowering force (heat) before one is ready (cold egg) will bring about a sudden crash (egg crack) Cannot make a cake without their little yolky sacrifices, and must tread feather light upon their inadequate outer sense of protection... Certain choices must be made to move from one plane to another, and as such, certain sacrifices must be made to create a new presence. This new creation will be fragile in its birth, so must be handled with care, for it does not have a great sense of protection, much as the mind and emotions of a maso surrendering to a Sadist with great hopes of the "cake rising", but wary of the delicacy of the eggshell Rats' feet over broken glass? T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men", reference Interpreted as a flat voice amongst a dry arid lifeless environment, such as the perceived life/death limbo of the perceived meaning of the poem Rats' feet are small and delicate, and they must tread lightly upon broken glass to not cut themselves. Rats are misunderstood outcast creatures. The broken glass is them trying to move about the world in a self-conscious way. They tread lightly upon broken glass (an unforgiving environment) as rats (a misunderstood and outcast creature). This action is tedious and uncomfortable, and must be made with great care, much as walking on eggshell Batter rises like a phoenix... New life rising from the deconstruction of the individual pieces into a whole. A rebirth of many into one. A melding of desires. Such as the eggs' yolky sacrifices. The egg being a symbol of new birth, and the yolk being a symbol of the core of that new birth. They have given themselves away to be blended with leavening (baking soda/powder) such to rise their spirits, and substance (flour) giving support, and have become the glue to hold it all together. They are between the levity of the glee of masochism and the substance the masochist craves from their Sadist Show me something real... Show me there is a possibility of having that substance within a S/m relationship Things must come to their own fruition in their own good time... A hoping that the sating of the desire will come, on the wings of meant to be, and resigning yourself to that. Time is on my side... Is it? The continual unrest of the search, and the hope of it being resolved before giving up. How much longer can one wait? Should one continue? The sands, they slip, tiny grain by tiny grain... The agony of the wait By the skin of my teeth... Along with the rats fleeing the sinking ship... A sense of desperation, a sense of time coming to a close, a sense of the 11th hour, the appetite becoming ravenous Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day... Pink Floyd, Time, lyric. Reference above Show me something real... Has my time passed, is there still time, how much longer Is that all there is? Let's break out the booze and have a ball... Peggy Lee, "Is That All There Is" lyric Is there really no satiation of the burning desire? Is it all for naught? Have we come so far and been through so much for nothing? You dropped me! And you, and you, and you dropped me! A sense of becoming jaded. If I can't be happy in my heart's desire, then I will seek refuge through substance abuse. May as well, why not, resign myself to the situation? Sleep it off... For tomorrow they'll be hell to pay... AC/DC, "Have A Drink On Me", lyric Try to recoup yourself from your last endeavor, "sleep off" the failure, "hell to pay", more pain to inevitibly come Every new beginning comes from some other begining's end... Semisonic, "Closing Time", lyric More circuitous nature of life, more sense of infinity, more hope of a new beginning And to all a good night... Sleep, per chance to dream... You have but slumbered here while these visions did appear... Shakespeare, A Midsummers Night Dream A bit of a respite from the struggle, an attempt for rest, an attempt to enter that blissful nothingness of sleep, that escape of sleep, an invitation yet still an intrusion Show me something real... Show me my desires exist in reality, not just in my dreams I spy with my little eye... Window to the soul... Tempest in a tea kettle... My vision is narrow, my "little" eye. Eyes the window to the soul, but my "little" eye, maybe a result of trying to put my emotional wall up, thus my "little" eye is limited. The vision within my soul is limited. Limited by struggling will. Being limited, maybe its expressions amount to not much more than a tempest in a tea kettle, the full depth hidden. Oh what a web we weave... Little white lies fade into shades of gray, then slip off into the inky... Darkest before the storm... The attempt to hide one's true self upon meeting a new person. You commit sins of omission by not revealing your dark side. The more you divulge, the more it becomes a slip into the darkness. It becomes a slippery slope. As a stone rolling downhill, it devolves down into the inky. Must always hit rock bottom before one can rise back up again (darkest before the storm) Seek shelter... It's just a shot away... Rolling Stones, Shelter, lyric The aim of peace is right before you, it's so simple, just shoot for it Show me something real... Show me you are not playing games, show me you are that "just a shot away" The miniature elves dance upon my brain and leave their tiny footprints... Must shelter them from the storm... Hold them dear to my bosom... The elves are my anxieties and insecurities. They tease me, because I know that in and of myself I am enough, but they want to say it could be so much more. They tease. So, cherish these feelings, they want to bring you to your goal. Yet they must keep you in a sense of being uncomfortable to pursue such. Mothers' milk... Nourish the wondrous little beings... Feed the mind's fears and instabilities in a hope of sating them For they know not what they do... They set up residence within my solitude... They entertain... They disturb... They cherish... They neglect... They follow the path less traveled... They follow the path of least resistence... Intrusive thoughts abound. They assert themselves. They take control. They seem to come from a source that does not have a true ill will, but that is the result. They latch onto you, I will set up residence within your mind, for the good or the bad. They are a meandering parasite. Won't you show them something real? Won't you take your overwhelming power to guide them into the true goal? Wherever I may roam... Wherever I lay my head is home... Metallica, Wherever I May Roam, lyric The neverending wandering searching for that "home" of satiation of desires It helps to think we might be wishing on the same bright star... A desire to believe that past partners are somehow still engaged with you, because you are still engaged with them Are you really thinking of me and loving me tonight? A desperate futile longing for such, an inability to detach Or folly of a childish mind? Passive-aggressive Naivete... Put away childish things... See the forest for the trees... I Corinthians 13:11 Cyniscm developing WAKE THE FUCK UP!!! SHOW ME SOMETHING REAL!!! I am on the motherfucking edge of really needing to know that something is still real in the world!!! Rude awakening... Darkest before the light... Well, wouldn't it be? Some things are just so plain in their simplicity that they are overlooked... Basically, we think too much and lose the point. We think it all means much more than it really does, and as such, we miss the forest for the trees, and we become disappointed for this lacking Mind always searching for greener pastures... More... Bigger... Better... Faster... Stronger.. Harder... Just, well, you know, MORE! What every dutiful housewife should expect from her laundry detergent... Attempt to sate the limitless appetite... Super-size me, oh Lord! The insatiable nature of humans. We climb up the ladder. Each step we take, every effort we put out, seems to justify this sense of entitlement in our minds, "I came this far, I deserve to go further". It is just very simply never enough. The lab rat hitting the pellet lever. We gorge. Show me something real... Show me there is meaning beyond the gluttony of all base desires Too much is never enough... Nothing exceeds like excess... Another Quaalude, she love me in the morning... Scarface movie See above. One drug cures another. There's always a fix. Isn't that all any of us needs? That shot in the arm... That slap in the face... Pushed from the plane... Maybe we can't quite do the brave things unless we know that someone is going to praise us for being brave? Bragging rights? Prozac and Rorschach... Then it all groovy? Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, "The Curse of Millhaven", lyric The myth of mental health care, the very limited choices. Eat it all up and it'll all be groovy You and I are underdosed and we're ready to fall... Marilyn Manson, "I Don't Like The Drugs But The Drugs Like Me", lyric Pop culture the drug, not tuned into enough media, underdosed. A lack of self-discovery Show us something real... Show us to be genuine outside of the herd A force from the outside... Intertia... Inertia creeps... Moving up slowly... Massive Attack, "Inertia Creeps", lyric Encouragement and egg-ing on from outside of one's self Building steam with a grain of salt... DJ Shadow, "Building Steam With A Grain Of Salt" The slow building of stress from an elemental force Some days them damn bootstraps just too much to try and pull... They lack the substance of strength, of resilency, they flop and break like soggy pasta... I can't make it on my own... The self-doubt we feel, and the exasperation and weariness of what we've already had to deal with I need to feel something real... I tire of the kinda, sorta, maybe... I tire of the half-assed... I tire of the milquetoast... I tire of the tepid... I'm so very tired of safe, sane, reasonable... The frustration of having real suffering with unreal or nonexistant return/reward I grow weary of this world, when shall we return to Transylvania huh? Rocky Horror Picture Show, Magenta to Frank-N-Furter Admitting failure at a grandious endeavor and relectantly falling back to home base, a longing to return to the daily Yet I receive nothing, and in abundance... Rocky Horror Picture Show "I ask for nothing, master" - Magenta to Frank-N-Furter "And you shall receive it, in abundance" - Frank-N-Furter Frustration with all give and no receive Show me something real... Show me that one can actually invest of themself and have it returned to them I yearn for the great cosmic bitch slap from the oppressive pimp of history to jolt me into the redemption and forgiveness of the future... Gain my portion of my profit from my dirty deeds, earned with my intimate flesh... I toiled for that pittiance, which has been taxed way too heavily... I am left with but a bread crumb... We give much more than we gain. We give much more of ourselves out of a sense of obligation to help others than we ever get back when we need help. We empty ourselves out to others and are left with barely enough to run on for ourselves Better is a dry morsel, and quietness therewith, than a house full of feasting with strife... Proverbs 17:1 Cut losses, settle, have personal peace unto yourself, have respite Show me something real... Show me there is a redeeming force for me Natives are becoming restless... We're hungry, beware of our appetite... Distant drums bring the news of a kill tonight... Tricky, Hell IsRound The Corner, lyric The struggle for power is about to shift balance, threatening to topple the status quo But nothing is real anymore... It is all a withered base of a previous thriving... The best is behind you, you missed the boat, you're given warmed up leftovers and pissed about it, cynical Show me something real... Show me love... Show me hate... Show me passion... Show me pain... Show me life... Show me death... Dull nerves ache much more than raw ones... Better anger, hurt, pain, loss, sadness, hate, spite, bitterness, cynicism than apathy SHOW ME SOMETHING, FOR GOD SAKE!!! Before I can no longer see... Before I become apathetic myself and no longer care Please tell me the ship of dazzling reality has not sailed and left behind the dingy of dim mediocracy in its place... I'm tired of cornflakes... Please tell me the richness of life, good and bad, has not given way to the emptiness of apathy. I'm tired of the mediocracy Where is the bountiful harvest? Let us feast upon the banquet of life before it spoils... Let us live each day to its fullest Feast upon the pig... Common saying to suggest wanton behavior Until our hunger is finally satisfied... Until we are satisfied with our life Satisfy our most ravenous hunger... Show us something real... Show us real life, in all her beauty and horror, do not relegate us to a facade |
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